


Close Job. Close Bank Account.

by rosa_himmelblau



Category: Philadelphia Story (1940)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 04:46:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19369963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_himmelblau/pseuds/rosa_himmelblau
Summary: Dext's new boat is finished, and he and Tracy are planning to leave on their honeymoon.





	Close Job. Close Bank Account.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michelle Christian (movies_michelle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/movies_michelle/gifts).



". . . so you have to be the one who invites him," Tracy finished.

Dext was staring at the enormous mound of clothes on the bed, wondering where he was going to sleep that night. There were other bedrooms in the house, of course, but he preferred this one, since it was his. "I don't see why. Are you packing all those clothes?" 

"Don't be silly, I'm unpacking most of them. And I know you don't see why, because you haven't been listening. So sit down and listen to me."

"Do I have to sit to listen?" Dext asked.

"Yes." She pushed him lightly and he sat down on their bed. Tracy crouched down at his feet in a move that should have been awkward, or silly, or something, but somehow never was. When she did it, it looked utterly natural. "Now. **I** can't invite him because he'll see it as some kind of Lady Bountiful gesture and he'll just say no and what would be the point of even asking if he's just going to say no?" 

"What makes you think—" But of course he didn't get to finish because Tracy wasn't finished, she was just taking a breath.

"But if **you** ask, and you put it just right, as a **favor** to us, maybe even as a wedding present, then he'll have to say yes because he'd like to do us a favor, it would be the opposite of—" She stopped, searching for a word. "Lady Bountifulness," she finished.

Dext didn't laugh, though he wanted to. Tracy making words up in a pinch always made him want to laugh. "Are you sure about that?"

"Oh, stop it, Dext. Just ask him, call him up and tell him we **need,** we really **need** someone to come and stay in the house while we're away—"

"So the servants don't get lonely, of course. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Don't be silly," she said again. "So that—we could get a cat that needs feeding—"

Now he did laugh. "And then I could tell him that we have servants who won't feed cats. That would certainly convince him. Perhaps what we really need are different servants."

Tracy made a face. "All right, it's silly. But it's just as silly for this big house to sit empty while we're away—" She stopped suddenly, rose to her feet in her magnificently graceful way, and sat down on his lap. "Dext. Are you jealous of Mike?" Her arms were around his neck. Of course he had to kiss her.

"You mean because he's lucky enough to have to get up early every morning to go out job hunting, while I'm forced to sleep late and have breakfast brought to me in bed by my beautiful red-headed wife? Or because he gets to worry about how he's going to pay his rent, while I'm stuck with a house and property I own free and clear? Or—"

"Dext." It was her I'm-being-serious tone.

"Or maybe because he has the privilege of spending his time with Miss Embry while I have to—" He didn't finish that one. "Or could it be because he once shared a moonlit swim, and a dozen starlit kisses with the loveliest woman in the world—who happens to be my wife, and who I get to spend the rest of my life with? Wouldn't that be a bit petty on my part?"

"I would have said it was human," Tracy answered. She was smiling, beaming brightly enough to light the whole house.

Dext smiled and kissed her. "Maybe. Maybe if I hadn't gotten something so wonderful in return, I would be jealous of Mike. But you have to understand something, Red. I love you. I've always loved you. And that means that what I want most in the world is for you to be as happy as you can be. If you were with Mike, and you were happy, I'd be jealous, but I'd still be happy for you." 

Tracy kissed him again.

"Here's an idea. Why don't I just ask him and tell him it would make you happy?" Dext asked in her ear. "I'm sure that that would be enough persuasion."

Tracy turned her head suddenly so that their noses collided nicely. "Do you really think that would be enough?"

"Yes, dear, I do. And if it isn't, I'll get Liz to help me."

*

He got Liz anyway, just because, and the three of them went out to lunch

Mike always seemed to stumble over his name, as if he had only been really comfortable calling him Haven in that superior, you're-rich-but-I'm-poor-but-proud way. Dext, he seemed to find too intimate somehow, he stuttered a little on its single syllable, and he looked down at their hands as they greeted each other.

"It isn't the same," Dext said, a little sadly, and Mike looked up into his face.

"What isn't the same?"

"The way you say my name. I liked it so much better when you were in your cups, calling out 'C. K. Dexter Haven—'" he imitated Mike's sing-song of his name. "That was when I knew we were going to be friends. No one had ever called me that before, not in quite that way."

Liz laugh. Mike blushed, but he laughed a little too, and it seemed to take the edge of nervousness off.

"May I call you C. K. Dexter Haven as well?" Liz asked.

Before he could answer, Mike said, "Why did you want to have lunch?" which sounded rude, but that was all right. That's the way Mike sounded when he felt he was out of his depth.

"I'm here to ask you to do me a favor by doing Tracy a favor. You see, we're going away on our honeymoon—I've finished the new boat, and we're going to try her out, which means the house is going to be empty for months while we're away. What Tracy proposes is for you to stay there, to sort of look after the house for us. Now, before you say no, let me finish. There's a whole house full of servants, so you'd be quite properly chaperoned. You're both unemployed because of us—"

"Not really because of you," Liz interrupted.

"Well, because you did us a good turn," Dext conceded. "So this isn't charity, it's really us returning a favor. And if you don't do it, I'm going to have spend my entire honeymoon listening to my beautiful bride fret about you, worry that you've been thrown out into the street, that you're being rained on, catching cold, not eating right, when there's a perfectly good house going to waste. And the worst part is, I won't even be able to tell her she's being silly, because a perfectly good house **will** be going to waste, and for no good reason except that, through the vagaries of chance I have a great deal of money and you have very little."

"The vagaries of chance," Mike repeated with a certain admiration. He was a man who loved words and how they could be put together, and Dext was literally speaking his language.

Dext smiled. "I have read a book or two," he said, and Mike gave a small bow.

"You know we can't," he said. "I know your intentions are good—the best! But it's still—"

Dext put up his hand. "I have one final argument on my side, and if that doesn't sway you, I'll say no more about it. What if the situation were reversed? What if I had lost all my money, and you were being sent on an assignment that would keep you away from home for half a year. Wouldn't you offer me your apartment, just until you got back, as a sort of easement, something to help me get back on my feet? I know if all I had was a fifth floor walk-up, you wouldn't hesitate to take this offer. If we're going to be friends, the fact that I inherited my father's money shouldn't make any difference." Dext hadn't realized how long he'd been talking until he finished and found his mouth was dry. "Sorry, I hadn't planned on making a speech." 

There was a silent moment. "Maybe I'm wrong," Dext said. "Maybe we're just not that kind of friends."

Liz reached over and took his hand. "Of course we're that kind of friends."

Dext had the feeling not many people had quite so blatantly offered Mike their friendship, because he didn't seem to know what to do with the offer. He swallowed a few times, pulled on his not-very-tight tie, then gulped down the entire glass of water the waiter had brought. There was a battle going on.

On the one hand was his very real affection for both Tracy and Dext, his very real need for a place to stay, his concern for Liz and her well-being and comfort—and on the other was his pride. There shouldn't even have been a contest, but that pride had kept the world from stomping that tender heart of his flat all the times it had tried, and letting go of it now on account of a few glib words from C. K. Dexter Haven—well, who could blame him for not wanting to do that?

He gave Mike a sheepish smile, and received one in return. "It's just that—Tracy aside—the way I see it, we can either say that it's all been great fun, just one of those things, and send cards at Christmas. Or we can not let money, or lack of money, stand in the way of us being great friends. Personally, I prefer the latter."

Mike started to say something, picked up his glass, found it empty, and grabbed Liz's. He took a sip of water. "I wish you wouldn't put it that way," he said finally. "You make me feel like a heel."

"Not a heel," Liz said, patting his hand. "More of a nitwit."

Mike shot her a look, but then he looked back at Dext. "You say this isn't charity?"

"My word of honor. Whatever that's worth," he added.

"And what you'll be getting out of this deal will be . . . ?"

"You'll be giving my conscience a break," Dext said. "I don't like to cost my friends their jobs, and I hate to do it without even being able to repay them properly." He had the feeling he was winning this argument, not because of anything Mike was saying but because of the look on Liz's face.

Mike didn't say anything, so Liz asked, "How long of a trip are you planning?"


End file.
